


The Tigers Come At Night

by aossi, Detroitbydark



Category: descendants - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Dark, F/M, Healing, Loving a pirate ain't easy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Torture, Violence, pirates being pirates, what did you expect?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2018-12-26 16:39:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12062940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aossi/pseuds/aossi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Detroitbydark/pseuds/Detroitbydark
Summary: There was a time when men were kind, when their voices were soft, and their words inviting.





	1. Antebellum

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh! We have been so excited to share this!  
> This one is dark. Very, very dark.
> 
> It's been fuelled by many 4:00am discussions of Harry and that damned Hook of his, and a certain Princess he'd give his heart and head for.  
> We hope you love it as much as we do, thank you for taking the time to read it, and please feel free to leave as much feedback as you would like, we'd love to hear what you think!
> 
> (Also, we're sorry in advance!)  
> x

There had always been little room for detailed rulebooks or ethos aboard the _Lost Revenge_ , the good Captain’s listed regulations were simple, fair and inflexible. It was easily remembered in the form of a short verse, written by old pirate Lords many years prior, and adopted by Uma as nothing short of law in her early captaincy: _Brother fight alongside brother, the bounty shared between, every man shall bare his load and keep his dagger clean._

Evie had suppressed a short laugh when she’d first heard the motley crew recite it like the song of a church choir, but Uma had sworn that no matter the peril or pitfalls faced, it had served her right and true. Often times, she’d find Hook mumbling the mantra to himself as he polished his cutlass before bed, or spot Gil humming it as he shared a bottle of rum with a fellow crewman in the night air, even Uma herself would repeat the lines by heart as she rationed the daily workload to her eager crew. After a short while, the princess had also caught herself mumbling the tune quietly, the words rolling from her tongue as she washed linens or helped to rig a sail. Harry had smirked when she adopted the phrase like it was her own, jokingly announcing to all who would listen that he would be the man to make a pirate of the princess. It was true, Evie _loved_ life at sea, much more than she’d ever expected to. If asked to set foot aboard a pirate ship a year ago, the princess would have turned her button nose up at the thought, but the crew truly were a family to her now. Each of them had shown her such kindness during her earlier, clueless days. They were patient with her, ceding that as long as she was willing to learn, they would be willing to teach. Evie adored being part of something bigger than herself, she found adrenaline in learning to wield a sword and fun in drinking rum like a tramp, and with her strapping boyfriend by her side for the majority of her day she had little else to want for.

She was strewn across Harry’s chest late one evening after a more burdensome day than she’d wished for. Harry’s fingers were combing through her cobalt hair as her eyes scanned the pages of an ancient book filled to the binding with fairy stories and tales of the sea, when there was an urgent knock on the door of Harry’s quaint cabin. The pirate sighs, stroking the crown of her head once more before slipping off the bed and striding to the door, he pulls it open with a swiftness, his eyes landing on Gil _. One_ night alone with Evie was all he wanted, the air around him pulsed with irritation as he eyed the blonde.  
“Harry, Evie…” He nods by way of greeting, an air of severity in his tone, “I hope I didn’t wake you.”  
Harry frowns, noticing the lad’s hands wringing nervously, “Gil? What’s happened?”  
“There’s been… a development.”  
“ _Eh_?” Harry frowns, his brow creasing deeply as Evie sits up, curious. Gil wasn’t one to beat around the bush, in fact, Evie had never heard such a vague comment pass his lips. She had crowned him the most straight-forward person she’d ever come across after their very first meeting, during which he’d introduced himself, albeit quite seriously, as “ _Gaston’s son; just as dim, but far better looking_.”  
She’d decided immediately that she liked Gil very much. Harry raised an eyebrow as Gil sighs, glancing at the princess before speaking to Harry in a low, urgent tone.  
“It's the _Golden Hind_ , just off the port side, coming on strong.”

 _The Hind?_ Hell, the name alone sent a shiver of dark anticipation skittering down Harry's spine. That was old Ned Noosemaker's ship. The Captain's given name was Eddard Smith but he'd earned his moniker for the habit he had of stringing up those who got in his way. He was a right bastard and had a fuse so short it nay existed. It had been nearly two years since he'd had the misfortune of seeing the cursed ship and its heathen crew. There was no honor among those that sailed for the Noosemaker, as he had none himself. He remembered their last encounter well. Uma had lost good crew that day, four men in total. He himself had placed Charon's coin in each man’s mouth before they were given to the sea, their final resting place. It had taken nearly a fortnight for the bruises to leave Gil's neck. They'd come so close to losing him. The Noosemaker had strung up his mate in his typical fashion. It had only been sheer luck and a well-placed throwing knife that had saved the man. The frightening image of Gil clawing at the knot, his legs kicking wildly as he hung suspended above them was forever burned into Harry's mind.  
Harry licked his dry lips, chapped from the day’s strong winds. The Captain flashed around the corner as Evie slid up behind him. He startled slightly as her small hands slid around his waist. She let go immediately as if she'd touched hot metal. Blindly he reached back for her hand which she took without question. He gave it a tentative squeeze and she responded back in kind. Uma came to a stop next to Gil. Her face was stern as she finished fastening her scabbard at her waist.  
"Jonas saw the Hind near an hour ago and she's getting closer. He suspects she'll be on us in the half hour." Her eyes moved from Harry to the sapphire haired woman behind him before locking them with her First Mate. "I need you up top as of yesterday. Evie's to stay here, understood?"  
Harry nodded seriously. _Of course he wouldn't be letting his sweet lass anywhere near a fight!_ Not only did he fear for her safety, but he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, he'd be no good to anyone while she was in danger and in the situation that was quickly approaching he would need to be at his best. It was a matter of life or death.

The Captain gave a final nod and turned to leave, dragging Gil by the shirt with her. Harry turned, steeling himself for the argument he knew he was about to face. The Princess had taken up with him near on a year ago and he'd discovered aside from her sharp wit (and sharper tongue) she had been blessed (or cursed) with a stubborn streak a nautical mile long. Her jaw was already set and he held up a hand before a she could even begin to speak.  
"I need ye te listen, Love, savvy?"  
Her dark eyes narrowed for a moment before she took a stabilizing breath and nodding her head.  
"Evie, ye know ye are my heart? I would bring you the moon if you asked." He used their still laced fingers to pull her into him. She was tense and he didn't blame her. He could feel his own spine stiffening as his mind began to slither into the cold reptilian place that battle inevitably took him. It was a place where nothing mattered but to survive and protect what was his at all costs.  
"Princess I would deny ye nothing you asked but I ask that tonight, in this hour, you submit to me. I need you to follow my command."  
Her eyes were big and beautiful as she looked up at him. He wanted nothing more than to take her back to bed but that was not to be.  
"I need ye to stay here. I need ye to lock the door. Keep the dirk I gave ye nearby." His fingers traced lines up and down her back. He wasn't sure whether it was more to steady himself or her, "Ye are not to open the door for any reason. Yer not to come out ‘til the Captain, Gil, or myself comes to collect ye."  
He watched her nod again as he backed her into their quarters and pushed the door shut with his foot behind him. He leaned into her and she rose slightly onto her toes. Their lips came together sweet and gentle. By the Gods, how he loved this woman. Her eyes stayed closed for another moment when he pulled back and he fought back the urge to capture those lush red lips in a kiss more akin to the desperation he was beginning to feel. Her eyes fluttered open and he saw the same desperation staring back at him.  
"If something were to happen and someone gets in here, ye don't hesitate. Ye gut the dog. Ye fight dirty. Ye fight hard. Ye stay alive."

They'd had this discussion before but this was the first time it would ever be an issue as opposed to a hypothetical situation. He watched her tentatively as she moved across the room and pulled the ornately carved handle of the dirk out of a desk drawer. He himself began throwing on his clothes, moving swiftly now as he could hear to activity above deck starts to increase. After sliding into his coat and sheathing his sword at the hip, he glanced about the room for his hat. Evie was standing by the door holding it in her hands, her fingers wringing the brim. He held out a hand for it and she shook her head before stepping forward and placing it atop his head. She adjusted it to her liking before giving the white plume a flick of a finger. Her smile was sad and nervous. Harry tried to reassure her with a smile of his own but it didn't meet his eyes.  
“Ye'll lock this door behind me?"  
"Yes."  
"I love ye, Princess."  
"I love you too, pirate."  
Harry hesitated, one foot beyond the threshold. He bowed, pressing his mouth to hers for a chaste peck. His thumb and index finger held her chin in place as he pulled back slightly, both of them exhaling a shuddering breath as he shook his head. He’d never felt so dreadful leaving her. He knew she’d be driven mad being locked away on her own. He knew well of her struggles with cleithrophobia. Evie had once described to him the crippling disconcertion she’d felt while trapped in her home as a child and in that moment Harry had sworn to himself he would someday bring down hell on Maleficent for her banishment of his treasure. Even if she’d only been a little lass at the time, he still hated the thought of her feeling so afraid, having no way out for such a long stretch. Small places and locked doors still made it difficult for her to breathe on occasion. He hoped she’d quickly tire herself out, the image of her stress-induced pacing into the wee hours of the morning was not a pleasant one.

“ _Fuck._ ” He mutters, kissing her a final time, before he lays his forehead against her own for a few seconds. He straightens then, adjusting his hat carefully, his eyes examining the darling girl in front of him. Harry had never thought himself a man to fall so deeply in love, but alas, here he was, robbed of his own heart by a princess with sinful eyes and spunk aplenty to match.  
“Be careful.” She orders gently, her fingers brushing against his lips before he nods, stepping backwards through the door. It closes with a softened click. Evie follows, snapping the deadbolt across and twisting the internal lock. Standing quietly, now alone, she chews at her lip, folding at the edging of her underdress gently. She clutches at the thin material, returning to the bed to sit with her book again, hoping to somehow read or sleep her way through the night ahead.

The book didn’t last long. She’d tucked it away within the hour, her mind racing too fast to even attempt to follow the words her eyes wandered over. She anxiously listened to the sound of footsteps, swords being sharpened and distant guns being test-fired. Her hands were wringing habitually as she paced around the room. She wanted to know what was happening, being excluded from the loop was making her grow increasingly off balance. She felt like the lock and deadbolt were mocking her, staring at her as she crossed the room back and forth, back and forth. The image of Harry’s worried eyes was haunting her, she didn’t know much about who, or what, they would be dealing with tonight, but she wasn’t overjoyed at the prospect of looting, blood thirsty pirates anywhere near her loved ones. Yes, of course she was worried, but worse so, she felt like a total coward! She wanted to be part of the family – one of the crew, and yet here she was, locked away like a damsel in distress. Uma’s axiom sprung to her mind suddenly. She began reciting it aloud, low and slow.  
"Brother fight alongside brother, the bounty shared between, every man shall bare his load and keep his dagger clean... brother fight… alongside brother."

 _Brother fight alongside brother.  
_ _Every man shall bare his load._

She frowned, her eyes darting to the dagger she’d placed on the desktop earlier. She was good with a sword, and hell, she was better still with a dagger! She wasn't quite at Harry's level but she could hold her own quite well in a both solo and group combat, thanks to the months of training she’d received. She’d disarmed Uma a number of times, Harry only a handful. And while Gil had the advantage of brutish strength, she was always quicker, her strikes more sure. Her mind suddenly falters when she hears thundering footsteps across the main deck above her, shouts of rage and threat dulled by the space between their source and her ears. Her pacing quickens again as she folds her arms, one hand resting under her chin; listening. She poised her ears to attempt to pick up any voices she recognised, her neck straining in the process. Her heart began hammering against her ribcage, her chest heaving. The screech of metal on metal burns her eardrums, roars of delight and pain flooding the air around her. Then she hears it, Uma’s voice roaring a warning, loud and sharp, “ _Eyes up, Gil!_ ”  
Something within the princess snaps, she grabs the dirk into a trembling hand, unlocking the door with a snap and a twist. She marches down the hall at a slow run, the volume of noise she had been hearing increasing ten-fold. The ship shivered and moaned around her as the long guns are fired. The sickening sound of splintering follows as the Revenge takes a return volley. Before her brain can even catch up with her body, she's ascending the stairs at the end of the hallway, her curls bouncing as she moves.

She arrives at the outer door. Her hand rests on its shiny brass knob. Her heart is pounding. The moment of reckoning is upon her and she stops for but a mere second. She could still turn back but another scream settles her in her chosen path. The knob twists in her hand. For one moment more the noise from the outside world is a dulled pastel, buffered by the ship itself than she's pushing the door open and every sound is sharp and bright. The cacophony of it all sends her reeling. She takes a sharp, shocked inhale through her nostrils, the thick smog of gunpowder filling her lungs. The wind that had been whipping them all day long has settled into a cool breeze that raises gooseflesh on her arms.  Evie has no time to adjust as a shape looms into her periphery. A lanky, greasy sort of fellow with a twisted smile. She realises what she must appear like, body only covered in a midnight blue shift. Her feet are cased in a black pair of boots handed down to her from the Captain. She hadn't even thought to pull her hair back into something manageable and her cerulean locks tumbled around her shoulders. She is not what one would expect to march into war. She knew in that moment she'd made a horrible decision. The lanky chap lunges at her before she has time to berate herself any longer. With a grace bred of years of her mother's strictly enforced dance training she ducks under his reaching arms. She comes up behind him throwing all her weight into a shove to his back. The pirate stumbles head first into the door she'd just exited, crumpling to the ground. She thought maybe she could escape back down the passage to her safe, secure room but the unconscious pirate now lay blocking her entrance.

Her eyes dart around the mayhem. Jonas and Gonzo are back to back taking on all that come their way. Dear Jonas has a sword in each hand and a sneer on his face as he cuts down those that would run him through. Evie sees the crimson droplets fly through the air as one of his blades flies true to its intended target. Gonzo attempts to throw his opponent off with an empty fade but the pirate in his sights is not so easily tricked and it's only his quick reaction that has him deflect the enemies incoming blow. A squeal of anger catches her attention. She knows the cursing voice; Bonny! She spins trying to locate the woman. Her eyes finally land on her a short distance away. She's cradling her left arm with her sword hand. She's cursing and snarling a blue streak at the mountain of a pirate who's back is conveniently toward Evie. The size difference between the two is immense. Bonny appears to be a small child compared to the hulking figure.

Evie doesn't stop to think about what she's about to do. As she moves she readjusts her grip on the dirk. The beast of a man has no idea what hits him when Evie lunges forward, the long point of her dirk sliding into the flesh just above his kidney like a hot knife into butter. The hulk howls in rage as the princess places a shiny black boot on the back of his knee. Pushing with her foot and pulling with all her strength she manages to unsheathe her blade from his flesh and drop him to the ground. He attempts to turn and swing out at her but Bonny has been given all the time she needs and her cutlass slices clean through the side of his neck. Blood sprays out with each pump of the beast’s heart and both Evie and Bonny as splashed with it as Evie runs to Bonny's side. The other woman's arm is bleeding well. It flows down to her hand in rivulets and streams. Evie is sure she sees muscles peaking from the wound bed. Bonny only stares at her with concern but says nothing they both understand that Evie is now a part of this whether she was meant to be or not.

"Thanks Princess." the smaller woman mumbles as her sharp eyes continue to survey the battle. Both women know that there'll be no time to rest until the nights wicked deeds are done. Evie does the only thing she knows in the moment and slices off a strip of the midnight fabric from her shift and ties it tightly around the wound, attempting to staunch the flow. They butt foreheads together gently each placing a hand on the others shoulder in the crews customary sign of affection. Than in a flash Bonny is gone again with a cry of primal rage. Evie attempts to make herself seem small as she fades back into the shadows. She is so out of her depth and she knows it. Gil, Harry, Uma, and various other crew mates have been helping her hone her skills. When she'd come to the ship her only means of protection had been the various poison recipes her mother had taught her. Unfortunately, those required extremely close quarters to one’s enemy and as such left her very limited when it came to her self-defense. She'd felt comfortable with her newfound skills until she'd placed herself in the position she was now in. Now it wasn't games and play it was life and death. She felt a wave of shame wash over her. _What had she done?!_ She wasn't allowed time to think though, as her moment of distraction had given her enemy the time to gain the upper hand.

The princess yelps as she's shoved to the side by a slamming against her back, her body unprepared for the force as she slams chest-first into a stack of loaded gunpowder barrels. She gasps in a breath, her head snapping around to the source. Her attacker is staring at her with a sour look on his face. He points to hulk of a man laying some ways off, the one she and Bonny finished.  
"That was me bruva.”  
Evie can see the resemblance somewhat though this man is more wide than his now dead brother. He's probably older as well. Wisps of grey streak through the hair at his temples. His shoulders are broad and strong looking and his hands look to be the size of a bear’s paws. A belly is noticeable underneath his shirt and the only thing that indicates he may not be in the prime condition he once was. The princess straightens, looking back at the surly pirate with narrowed eyes, her snarky streak rearing its head.  
“And this is my ship.” She replies, her tone accusing. “A ship you and your miserable crew have infringed upon-”  
The revolting brute advanced to her, backing handing the princess sharply across the face. The strike reverberates through her cheek and mouth, her face turned to the side by the impact. The princess stumbles back, falling against the rail on the edge of the ship. She feels a slither of blood slip down her chin, her finger drifting over her stung lip. She’d never been slapped by a gent before. Her mother had crossed her cheek several times through her life, due to petty cheek or, once or twice, a sub-par hairstyle.

Though each of the crew had given her thorough training, Evie had never once been treated roughly. Not one had ever been harsh to her, for if they had they would have hell to pay in the form of one Harry James Hook. She looks up at the man in dismay, as he began striding towards her again. Evie’s back was pressed firmly against the rail. She could hear the waves and feel the cool spray as they crashed against the Revenge's hull. She knows she has to get away but the pirate is to close now for her to move. Fresh fear blooms in her chest as he sheathes his cutlass and drags a dagger from its home in his boot. His eyes are menacing as he speaks, his voice a low growl.  
"Ye should have stayed on land, girlie."  
Evie dabs at the blood on her mouth with a thumb, trying to stand at full height but is unable when a darting pain spreads over her ribs, she conceded she’d done more damage than she’d thought with the barrels and winced. She rounds her arm across her middle for support, the dirk held firmly in her good hand.  
"Ye’d fetch a pretty penny from the slavers, lass."  
Her breath escaped her in gasps as she stares at him, he bows until their eyes meet, his face inches from hers. She can smell his wretched breath as it hits her face. "Tell me, little lovely one, have ye kept yourself pure around all these sinful sons a’bitches?"  
Evie couldn’t tear her eyes away from the malicious glint resting within his yellowed eyes. He looked down at her like she was a fresh cut of meat ready for the roast. It made her feel violently sick. He leans closer, his nose grazing her cheek as he chuckles. She resists the man as much as she could, pulling against him as takes her jaw in his filthy hand and looks her over.  
"Nay, I think they've been whorin’ ye around. Do they take turns with ye?"  
His lips pull back in a gritty laugh, revealing his rotting teeth and gums to Evie’s terrified eyes.  
"Maybe ye won't be worth quite as much as I'd hoped. Oh, well."

The mere proximity of the monstrous man brings up the bile in the back of her throat. She focuses on the burn, trying to steady herself and bury the terror that is bubbling below the surface. The fighting continues on around them but Evie feels like she is in a bubble with the great beast. In this moment, they are the only two beings alive, locked in a battle she surely can't win. His filthy hand takes her chin between thumb and fore finger, forcefully tilting it from side to side.  
"Who've ya been called to the sea by?" he asks, with a grin more knowing than she can appreciate in the moment. He leans back and she tries to pull away, her dirk had fallen away to her side and her fingers are scrambling to find it. He laughs at her then, and it is cold and cruel. He pulls her to him, tilting her head to whisper in her ear.  
"Has the wee Hook lad finally grown a ball? Or, maybe, he's as weak in his manhood below… as they say he is in his head?"  
Evie let out a hiss, “ _Belay your foul mouth, sir._ ”  
In a moment of madness, fuelled by rage and fear, she snaps her head to the side, biting down hard into the hand that held her face. Her mouth fills with the taste of sweat, and seeping blood. He screams in rage, tugging his hand free from the sharp-toothed princess before striking her again. The princess crumpled to the floor, her legs giving way under her from the jolt of his hand. She spits the taste from her tongue, retching violently. She knew immediately she shouldn’t have provoked him, she should have shut her eyes and taken the verbal beating in solitude. The horrid corsair crouches over her, pulling her from the floor by her cerulean locks and hurling her body against the trunk of the mizzenmast. Pain rips through her as she lets out a grunt, her back arching uncomfortably. He kneels over her, his eyes crazed and mouth salivating thickly. Evie stared up at him with determination, her body drunk with pain. She trembled, hearing swords clattering still to her side. Her stomach twisted at the gross nature of it all _. Men and women slicing each other to death, tearing skin from bone, and for what?_ She coughed heavily, the ache in her lungs slowing her breath. He lifts a hand, using his knife to slice through the thin fabric of her dress as she shrinks away from him. He cuts, from the neckline down her chest bone to her diaphragm, her milky skin exposed to the night.

"I could cut ye through, pretty one, give ye a lovely scare between those breasts, if ye'd like it… it’d be little something te remember me by.”  
Evie’s spinning head recognised distant shouts, voices she knew; both male and female.  
“Or we could hand ye to the hangman himself. Noosemaker loves a pretty one, uses them t’decorate his masts with, y’eno.”  
The man lifts his knife to the sky, pointing off to the distance behind. Evie looks to a second ship anchored just off the Revenge’s side. Her eyes scan the structure carefully, as they adjust to the low light, she lets out a loud, nauseated sob. Bodies, some half rotting, some fresh, hung lynched along each of the four masts of the Hind. Her tear-filled eyes land on one, the swinging body of a child. The pirate lets out a maniacal laugh, throwing his head back to the moon.  
"Suppose I could drag ye below where it's nice and quiet and give ye something else te remember me by, either. Tell me lass, does your crazy boy like te make ye scream?"  
Evie tries to shrink back from him, tears cutting through her cheeks, but there's nowhere to go. She can’t bolt, too weak now to run. The monster fists his hand in her hair and yanks her head back, making her meet his dilated pupils as she yelps out.  
"I'll make ye scream, wee one. Of that ye can be sure!”  
"Get off me!" Evie begs, as he laughs down at her. He twists his dirty hands in her hair tighter as she pants, her neck arched unnaturally.  
"Love bites, eh?"

He leans in close to her neck, his nose tracing her jaw. Dirty fingers press at the bruises her beloved had gifted her days prior. She can't help but whimper out Harry's name over and over in her mind. Tears roll freely down her face. She feels deaths icy fingers reaching out for her and all she can think about is her Harry finding her abused, lifeless body. The vile creature above her clamps a hand tight over her mouth, tired of hearing her sobs. He snaps his teeth so near her skin that she feels a fine spray of spittle dot her jaw.  
"I like to leave marks too." he growls against her throat. A voice cuts through her terror. Evie swore she heard Gil yelling her name. She tries to kick out from under the dog, her adrenaline doing very little to ease sharp pain every inhalation causes. The sounds of steel on steel and smoking guns begin to come to her more clearly. Blood is pooling in her mouth and all she can taste is the metallic tang of copper. She's stopped whimpering as she struggles to pull air into her battered body. Her captor notices as well and releases his grasp on her mouth. She pulls in a lungful as quickly as her body will allow.  
"I wonder how far down the lad likes to mark his property?" She feels the blade against her breast as he drags it lower. His hands rove over her and the need to vomit comes rushing back. His eyes are filled with violence and demented lust, "Do ya think your lad would mind sharin’?"  
Evie's mind drifts back to Harry's pleas, she could practically hear him screaming them at her in her head. She mustered up as much bravado as she could, squaring up to the man.  
She spits in his face then, a mixture of blood and spittle splattering his skin. He doesn't move for a moment.  
"You’re a dead man!" She screams, her voice cracked, suddenly wild and feral. "You and everything you stand for were done the second you touched-".  
Her words are ended by the freight train of a third backhand that flies across her face. The pained howl of an injured animal escaped her drawing the attention, finally, of her own crew.


	2. Strife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the battle between the Hind and the Revenge rages on, Harry is forced into a war where there can be no winners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we thought we'd written something dark with chapter 1. Little did we know that Harry's instability and lust for power would sing to us in chapter 2...   
> Again, thank you so much for taking the time to read this. We've really pushed past our boundaries with this one and we'd love to hear what you think. Your feedback is cherished and appreciated.
> 
> As we begin work on chapter three know that it is always darkest right before dawn. x

The atmosphere on the deck was one of grave anticipation. Each member of the crew was silently preparing themselves for the prolonged night that stood ahead. There were few words exchanged aboard the ship from once the captain sounded the call to arms. The _Lost Revenge_ had ne’er been so soundless as she moved slowly through the waves, repositioning herself at the steady hands of wee Bonny. Harry moved along the deck quietly, his jaw set in position as he passes kegs of ammo, his hand tightening around his freshly polished hook. It glinted at him the soft glow of the moonlight, almost looking as exuberant as Harry felt. Gil had taken to sharpening his sword, high on the forecastle deck, to keep his hands busy, forever the fidget of the group. Uma, meanwhile, was pacing along the length of the main deck, stopping every few moments to glare at the approaching vessel. Old Noosemaker was no fool, and she guessed he knew they were waiting for him with guns and blades at the ready; he, no doubt, also had his scurvy-infested crew poised for a hefty battle. 

Harry leaned against the mast, his hat-topped head hung low as he readjusted the press of his sword against his hip. He breathes gently on the hook, slipping a finger along the fresh edging with a feather-light touch. It split the skin immediately, making his eyes glow in satisfaction. The crimson dwelled up from the small slice as he hummed, sucking the digit into his mouth to clean it. The captain turned then, meeting his wild eyes before singling him with a small nod. Harry twists the hook within his hand excitedly, the silver sitting comfortably against his leather gloved palm. His body was already buzzing with adrenaline. Mentally, he was in a place he preferred to keep hidden, only letting her loose for battle or war. Every breath he took was slow, controlled, precise, but his mind was reeling. The _Hind_ was on them now, her shadow encroaching upon the deck. Harry straightened, his shoulders squared as Uma calls out in a demanding tone.  
“Avast, men.” Her voice, sounding altogether too calm, sent a shiver of delight down Harry’s spine. Harry’s lips parting in a vicious grin as she smirks at him a she lets out a startling shout, “ _All hands hoy!_ ”  
While his external appearance was that of the utmost control, inside Harry was a well of anxious energy. It had been this way for him as long as he could remember, his self-destructive urges surely inherited from his Father. The great Captain had been single minded in his cruelty and Harry had learned young what kind of power that strict focus could bring. The internal switch that was flipped by promised violence turned his rational mind off and let his baser self free. He revelled in the promise of blood and power and sought it out like an addict looking for a fix.  
His fingers flexed around the hilt of his cutlass, anxious to unsheathe it and rain down chaos on his enemies. In the periphery, he watched his crew and saw the same response in many of them. They were pirates, after all.

Uma stood off to his right, her eyes blazing like some pagan Goddess about to be worshiped with blood and blades. His eyes flowed from her to the _Golden Hind_ , a great abomination of a ship, decorated in the macabre, grotesque manner that suited the Noosemaker all too well. The faces of her crew were visible now and he imagined he could smell their foul stink already. Their yellowed eyes seemed to glow with a demonic intensity. He watched as a bloated caricature of a man smiled at him, displaying what was left of a mouth of rooting teeth. Harry simply smiled back hard and cold. Something about the cur raised the hairs on the back of Harry's neck. He felt familiar but Harry was loath to spend precious time trying to remember the scoundrel. If he had the chance he'd put him down like all the other mangy dogs.  
He could hear the artillery being run out on the gun deck below. The crew of the _Lost Revenge_ knew their jobs well. They’d practiced this a hundred times through, keeping the crew fit and able to do it at short notice. While they possessed fewer cannons than the Hind, Harry knew without a doubt his crew was far more capable. With everything in place and eerie silence fell across both ships. He tapped his toe excitedly, ready to get on with the action. Uma must have felt his energy for suddenly she was yelling; " _Fire!"  
_ And the air was alight with fire and the screech of splintering wood as the Revenge unleashed hell on its adversary. 

Within seconds utter chaos explodes between both ships. Noosemaker’s men immediately began clambering across thin planks to board the Lost Revenge, swords high and at the ready. Harry let out a throaty growl as he set his sights on the biggest sailor he could see, stalking for him as he landed with a great thump on the deck.  
“Come about, ye squit!” Harry snarled, unsheathing his cutlass with a swift flick of his arm. He swung the sword down towards the man, his thrust powerful and precise. The brute catches it with a curved, rusty reaper in mid-air, the screech of metal on metal like music to Harry’s eager ears. He licks his lips, breathing in the sounds around him. Metal clashing, gunshots snapping and echoing screams fill the air. He beams at the man, a wide, white-tooth smile gracing his shadowed features, before swinging the sword back. Harry makes quick work of disarming him. The cur’s reaper clatters to the floor several steps away, and Harry made haste to shove it along with the heel of his boot. It slides across the deck with a squall. Raising his blade to the man’s throat, Harry grins, giggling out almost gleefully as he tilts his head to the side. His eyes darkening. _I have ye now, mate._  
“Ye know, the fat ones are always the easiest.”  
With a slash he slits the man from throat to sternum, a river of crimson seeping out as he drops heavily to his knees, his eyes wide as dinner plates as he stares up at Harry, who pants, his body vibrating from the surge of delight that fills him. He grins, wide and menacing, turning to find his next dancing partner.

It’s barely a second before someone is stepping up to fill his empty dance card. Harry is more than happy to oblige as his new friend's sword make a wide arc. The deflection is easy and the pirate in front of him is sloppy and poorly trained. His face says he's young but he's teeth say he's aging horribly. Harry wants to play and the dark-skinned man in front of him appears to be a perfect playmate. The lad lunges into his personal space but Harry is quick on his feet, retreating half a step back. He's thrown his new partner off balance. He crashes, unceremoniously, to a knee.  
"Hiya, boyo!" He chirps darkly, "Beautiful evening, eh?"  
He uses the hilt of cutlass to thump his nemesis in the soft spongey spot where head meets neck. The pirate grunts in pain making no quick move to get up. Harry lets his eyes wander around for a moment. The acrid smell of gunpowder and lead fill his lungs. It's sweeter than any fine perfume from any boutique in Auradon. His eyes flutter shut as he enjoys it for a moment. When he's opened them back up his opponent has risen shakily but unable to stand erect.  
"Yer the Hook brat!" he spits towards his feet and Harry frowns when a bit of spittle lands on his freshly shined boots.  
"Just had those shined, mate." Harry growls circling the other man, "And there's really n'reason for name calling."  
His eyes flash dangerously as he makes a broad sweeping gesture. The dumb twit takes the bait and while his arms swing up to protect his torso Harry kicks out with his right foot, smashing into the mans unguarded knee. The 'crunch' he feels makes him dizzy with glee, the high-pitched wail he hears is like a symphony to his ears. He is positively giddy as the man falls to the ground, clutching the limb.  
"Timber!" Harry crows high and giddy. His new friend makes no attempt to get up. The First Mate sighs at the lack of play left in him. Without much thought he stabs downwards and into the man’s trachea. He screams no more as he gasps for air, a wet bubbling sounds erupting from the wound. Harry looks down with a disgusted wince.  
"Poor form, matey." he mumbles as he removes a flint lock pistol from the man’s belt. He glances at it in disdain. It's dirty and hasn't been serviced in what must be _years_ , if the fine layer of grease means tells truths. The cry of a warrior rises up behind him and he swings around, bobbing off to the side just as a ginger haired fellow flies past him.

"A few rage issues, Red?" He holds the pistol at arm’s length, the muzzle aimed at the man’s head. "You can't just go off half-cocked and not expect _some_ trouble."  
As the man lunges again Harry pulls the trigger. Nothing happens. The Noosemaker's sailor connects with a shoulder into Harry's gut and the two men fall down in a tangle of limbs. Harry sucks air in through his nose as a fist connects with his stomach.  
" _Fucker!_ " Harry wheezes. Rage swells up in his chest, his vision going red; _He was the son of James Hook! He was not about to be taken down by a freckle-faced, carrot-topped twat!_  
When the pirate went in for another blow Harry sprung into action, kicking out with a leg and rolling from his path. He moves quickly, positioning himself on top of the struggling sailor. He glances down at the useless gun still in his hand. With a shrug, he flips it in his hand in a single toss. Gripping tightly to the barrel he smashes it against the ginger lad’s fear-stricken face. Over and over he strikes. The sound of crushing bones is loud and thrilling to Harry, until Uma is grabbing his shoulder and pulling him back.  
"Overkill, dontcha think?" She mutters unable to look at the mess below that was once a human face. Harry looks and sees nothing but mush, shrugging. He dusts off his coat off carelessly and he tosses the useless, bloody pistol over his shoulder. Taking a couple paces, he crouches down to scoop up his fallen cutlass. He can hear Gil's voice shouting from above but between the firing of the cannons, clashing of swords and screams of rage, he can't make out what he's saying. If he's yelling, he's alive and that's all that really matters. Glancing around with a grin, Harry wonders, _who’s next?_

Over the course of the fighting, Harry found himself lost in a dance featuring numerous partners. He admired their blood splattered on his coat, felt it in his hair and on his face. I brought him a sense of self that he couldn’t quite explain, and a high similar to that of a hefty opiate dosage. He cleaned his sword as he surveyed the deck with a smirk, few pairs remained. Uma was currently partaking in some intense swordplay with the Noosemaker. The pair were circling each other, focused eyes watching, predicting their opponent’s next move. Uma had the upper hand and she knew it. Her skills were far more advanced than the now near elderly captain, and judging by the gashes he now had on his chest and arms, he would soon be easy pickings for the sea witch.  
“Giving up yet, Ned?” Uma smiles playfully, her sword held confidently in her right hand, tilted under the man’s fleshy chin. He was panting, clearly exhausted after the no-doubt intense battle between the pair.  
The Noosemaker himself was a stocky man, all shoulders and grey-haired wisdom, his face leathered and older than his years should allow. To Uma’s knowledge he’d been sailing _the Hind_ near forty years. He grew up on his father’s deck, similarly to Harry and his siblings, and owned his first vessel at nineteen. A stolen beauty from a nameless pirate crew, it was his pride and joy. He’d left the captain and first mate strung up to the main mast for weeks, earning himself quite a reputation, and the stomach-churning nickname of Ned ‘The Noosemaker’ Smith.  
Harry watched the crimson flow from the man with a giggle, proud of his captain, of his entire crew. His own bloodlust began flaring and his morose eyes searching for a new friend amongst the remaining crop of opponents. Delight was coursing through his veins. He received a bruise or two, and a cut above his brow thanks to one crook with a set of rusted brass knuckles; Harry had enjoyed hooking that disgusting blowfish. Overall, Harry was content, and for the most part, unscathed. All at once he heard a gut-wrenching wail, his eyes immediately snapping to the source in dread. Instantly, knew whose lips the horrific sound had escaped from. _Evie._

If he'd had any question of whom the wretched scream had come from before, the shock of deep blue hair spread across the blood stained poop deck above would have set it in stone. It was as if time stood still. Harry watched as the man he'd seen on _the Hind_ earlier pulled his leg back and drove a brutal boot to his princess' stomach. The man scrubbed roughly at a rash of blood that splashed across his right eye and the bridge of his nose. Harry’s stomach coiled as he heard the foul words the heathen spoke.  
"I guess Hook's lil bastard ain't taught ye no manners, girlie. We'll be fixing that."  
He was moving before the next sobbing scream left her lips.  
Harry had experienced anger in his life, he'd experienced white-hot rage but it was all nothing compared to the blinding fury he was feeling now. He could hear Gil calling his name distantly but ignored it. The portly bastard didn't know what was coming until Harry was upon him. His hand latched onto the scum's shoulder spinning him around with such force that both men almost lost their balance. He could hear Evie on the ground coughing and retching, he could almost feel her wheezing breaths in his own aching lungs. His blood boiled as his fist connected with the other pirate’s jaw, sending him flailing backwards across the deck. The vile creature, defiling his ship with the spit of a shattered tooth, looked up at him with a knowing, sleazy smile.  
"I figured she was yer bitch. She reminds me a bit of yer mum, but ye wouldn't know nothin' 'bout her, would ye?"  
It took Harry a moment to recognise the man. He'd aged horribly but the features of his Da's old deck hand, Tom Blythe, hadn't changed as much as they'd grown older. 

Harry snarled at the man, snapping his teeth, feeling like a rabid dog. His body shook with rage. He hadn't seen Blythe in years. Not since The Captain had disavowed himself of him. Seems Tom had a thing for little girls, ones not much older than Harriet had been at the time. James Hook allowed many a foul beast aboard his ship but he wouldn't tolerate men who traded in little girls. Harry vaguely remembered joking with his sisters and calling him 'Blighter' after his Da's insistence on 'accidentally' forgetting the man’s given name, instead calling him Blight. The children found it gut-rippingly hilarious because of his Da’s habit of eyeing the man like he was indeed some sort of mildew or fungus; one that must be removed quickly and bleached out of memory. Harry felt another surge of rage flash through him as Evie began to whimper his name from behind. He was torn between her and revenge: revenge won out. This human waste would pay for hurting his princess. With his life. Harry stalked slowly around the man as he rose, a picture of loosely contained chaos. The old Blighter's movements had become arthritic overtime and Harry saw his struggle to right himself. He would use the son-of-a-bitch’s slow reflexes to his advantage. He shrugged out of his coat, letting it fall to a heap and leaving him only in a blood stained white shirt. His hat was next to go, tossed casually to the side. He wasn't going to allow anything to distract him from his task at hand. He made as if to lunge forward and Blythe jerked back, the smile fell from the other pirates face as Harry's maniacal laugh rang out.  
Harry’s gleeful grin never left him as the pair stared at each other. Harry circled around the man, tilting his head side to side as he watched him with wide eyes, his teeth shining in the dark. Evie’s pained whimpers never ceased, only drawing Harry more and more towards the sick bastard who’d hurt her.  
“Never quite lost yer love of wee girls, did ye, Blythe?” Harry sudden snarls, his dark eyes locked on the man’s weathered face, “Did ye like seein’ the fear in their wee eyes? Did ye like feeling like the big man when they struggled?”  
The old man hardens as he watches the younger lad circling him. He was threatened, that much was obvious. Harry’s eyes read nothing but malicious desire, trained tightly on his slumped figure. There was no way he could run. He could try to fight back, but if Hook’s son was anything like his famed father, he wouldn’t last very long.  He remembered little Harry learning to manage a sword on the deck of the _Jolly Roger_ when he was no more than four years old. Hell, he’d been skilled even then. Impossibly fast for a lad with such tiny legs, and precise too, his strikes drew blood every time.  
“I liked yer wee girl. She’s a right bonnie one, Hook.” Blythe smirks at the boy, attempting to throw him off balance. If he could make him angry, make him lash out, he might grab the upper hand. But Harry simply growled low, stalking around him with more conviction, now he was really going to give it to him. He was going to rip him piece by piece, make him pay for the disrespect he’d shown him, his crew, his Evie.  
Harry holds out his Hook, pointing it into the scummy pirate’s chest. “Ye made a grave misjudgement today, mate.” 

"Ah, I don't think so, lad" Blythe let out a laugh. His belly jiggled with the force of it. His greasy finger shot to where Evie lay.  
"You gon' look at 'er? No?" Blythe looked at her though, admiring his handiwork. She'd be a pretty mess for _weeks_. He shook his head, a smile plastered on his bloated face.  
"Yer the one who made the misjudgement. What were ye thinkin' bringing a sweet little piece of meat like that out to tease us all?" He waved his hand than. "Nay, ye don't need te tell me. I know what head ye've been thinking with."  
He watched as his words sunk in, enjoying how the young man began vibrating with rage.  
"Ye can't even protect her and now I've gotten inte her pretty head."  
The young pirate's lip curled up and back like a snarling animal exposing his teeth. Tom Blythe knew when he woke up this morning that today would be his last day on Earth as keenly as he knew his own two hands. He also knew that if he were to go to meet the devil he'd be dragging someone with him. He didn't realize he'd be getting revenge on the Hook family while doing it. It put his black heart at ease. He spun in place as Hook circled him. Harry's agitation was escalating to a level he'd never realized existed. While he tried not to think of the words Blythe spewed, he couldn't help let them sink in. He also couldn't look at Evie. He couldn't see her when he had this much rage simmering within him. He couldn't be near her until he'd finished the bastard in front of him. His circling continued growing smaller and smaller until the anticipation of putting the beast down became too much.

Both men lunged at the same time, coming together with great howl of rage. Blythe grasped Harry's hook hand in a meaty paw of his own while Harry struggled to keep a grip on the man’s other. Harry bared his sharp teeth within inches of the man's face threateningly, before bringing his foot down hard on the other mans. The momentary lack of focus gave him enough time to yank his wrist from Bltyhe’s grasps, his hook falling to the deck with a clatter. He reigned fists into the old pirate’s gut, enjoying the way he grunted with each hit.  
"Ye don't. Touch. What's. Mine" he punctuated each word with another blow. It appeared to the small crowd growing around them that Harry had the upper hand, until the Noosemaker's deck hand threw his head forward connecting with Harry's nose. He felt as much as he heard the tell-tale crack, felt the blood begin to flow almost immediately.  
Harry squints, his eyes tearing in response to the trauma as he stumbles back, wiping the pouring blood from his mouth and chin with a single swipe. Blythe smirks, tilting his chin at the lad as he grabs him, shoving him on the deck beside Evie, who was staring up at Harry’s bloodied face wide-eyed. Harry’s eyes flickered dizzily, trying to centre himself as he caught his upper body on the deck, braced by his hands.  
“Lost yer touch, Hook? Seems t’me yer a bit off balance.” Blythe asks, raising a brow. “Look at her, Hook. I know ye want te see that pretty face.”  
Harry could feel nothing but white-hot fury as his eyes fall to Evie, her body trembling and battered barely a foot from his side. She stared back at him with shivering lips, her eyes locked on him, wordless and shivering. Her beautiful face is a patchwork of Blythe's inflicted damage. Blood is running from her nose and lip, staining her pale skin. Her right eye has begun to swell along with the ghastly purple bruise that blossoms under her pale flesh. He feels bile burn the back of his throat as she breathes, shallow and labored, every inhalation a struggle. She's got at least one, maybe two, cracked ribs. Harry’s eye’s scan her face in a panic, she was alive at least, but he could see the fear overtaking her. His eyes traveled to the material of her dress, sliced down to her bellybutton and exposing the creamy skin only he was supposed to view. His eyes land on the slice across her right breast, though it was thin, barely worth being called a cut – he felt fresh rage build within him. He felt immense guilt, he should never have exposed her to this world, she was too gentle for it all; too lovely. Harry's jaw sets as he looks at his girlfriend once more, deciding Blythe would pay for what he’d done with his life.  
“I wasn’t gonna kill ‘er, ye know.” Blythe murmurs, bending to Harry’s earside, watching Evie with him. “I woulda taken her off yer hands, no cost or nuthin’. Pretty ones are always best free.”

Harry shudders with anger, his dark eyes narrowed as he turns to look at the scum beside him, grabbing him by the throat and straightening. He pushes the older man up against the mast a few inches from where Evie lay. Gil and Uma appeared by her side then, Gil gathering the princess up in his arms to check her over, asking her softly where he’d hurt her and how he could help. Uma was on Harry straight away, her eyes locked to his shaking figure. She hesitated as she opened her mouth to speak. He’d never looked so feral before, mouth foamed with blood and spit, eyes wide and full of malice, teeth bared and hand on his sword. He pressed his forearm to Blythe’s throat, cutting off the air to the man’s lungs mid-breath.  
“Harry.” Uma warns, kneeling by Evie’s side, her shoulders squared tightly. Gil snaps his head up at her voice, concern lacing his features as he spots Harry.  
“I’m gonnae enjoy this.” Harry murmurs darkly, a smile threatening his lips.  
Uma glanced down warily at the princess. The poor girl was in shock, her face was pale as a sheet and a sheen of sweat coated her brow. Her blue tresses were matted and plastered against her skin. Ugly purple bruises were already beginning to mar her creamy skin. Uma then realised she hadn't yet taken her eyes off Harry. Gil looked worriedly between Evie, Harry and Uma. He looked lost, unsure how to advert the princess’ attention.  
"Harry," Uma barked again trying to gain his attention, "You need to stop this. Throw him overboard and let the sharks finish him."  
There were no signs of Harry wavering from whatever intentions he held for the scum in front of him. If anything, he seemed to press his hand further into Blythe’s neck, as if he was trying to push all the way through to the mast behind it. Blythe’s bloated face was turning an ugly shade of purple, like an over-ripe eggplant. Harry's lips were moving but Uma couldn't hear what he was saying to the man in his clutches. Judging by the maniac's glint in his eyes she knew it was good, she knew it was skin-crawlingly terrifying. Blythe's body began to go limp before Harry let him fall to the deck, gasping and gulping for air. Harry files a hand through his sweat-soaked hair causing it to sit askew. It only added to his already unhinged look. His eyes darted around in search of something. Finally, the glint of his hook caught his eye from the side. It took him but a moment to retrieve his beloved possession. He spun it by the handle, the fine polished metal flashing in the low light, teasing him.  
Uma knew what was about to happen, and it wasn't going to be pleasant. Her First Mate was a mad dog and no one could leash him. Harry towered over Blythe before leaning in, his smirk still on display. His hand fisted in the man's shirt and pulled him off the deck, still gasping.

"Gil!" Uma growled as she watched Evie's eyes focused on Harry, her body trembling. The blonde tried pulling Evie up and away from the scene but she fought his grip, dead weight in his arms. She could hear the deck hand pleading with her softly.  
"Evie come on. Let's get you away from here. Please!" He begged desperately as she fought in his arms. "No, no... Harry..." She wouldn't be deterred from watching the morbid scene.  
Uma growled, "Evie, get below! That's an order, Princess!"  
Evie was so far gone she couldn't hear the Captain's harsh demand. She watched in horrified fascination as Harry brought the hook to his victim’s throat. Harry feels a surge of dominance as his hook 'pops' through the loose skin of the old Blighter's neck. The man’s eyes going wide with terror as Harry lets out a pleasured growl. The fearful Blythe’s hands scrabble trying to tear the blood stained demon’s hands away from him.  
"Do me a favor, eh?" Harry asks, smirking as he does. "Tell me Da I said 'Hi'."  
With that Harry slides the hook home before pulling back with a hard yank. Blood spatter flies across the deck as vessels and arteries are severed by the trusty silver Hook, now shaded crimson.

Tom Blythe slumps to the deck, choking and spluttering, his eyes wide on Evie as he gurgles out a final breath. The initial high scream that escapes the princess almost makes time slow down, Harry, panting and bloodied smirks down at his work as Blythe stills, his eyes cracked wide as he lies motionless on the deck. Harry doesn’t register the screaming over the high-pitched ringing in his ears until Gil begins to chant the girl’s name, turning her to hide her face in his shoulder.  
“Evie, it’s alright! Evie, shh! You’re okay, look, we’re all okay!”  
The desperate tone is obvious as he hushes the trembling girl, hoarse shouts coming from her still as she sobs into his shoulder. She gasps out wordlessly, her breath not quite catching as Harry seems to regain function and turns to her. His chest tightens as he looks at her in a heap in Gil’s arms, Uma’s eyes resting on him from her space at their side. It’s then when Harry spots the dirk laying strewn on the deck a foot or so from Evie’s trembling hands. His body stiffens as he stalks towards it, scooping it up in one hand. The blade was completely clean bar a few splashes of red. Harry’s shoulders are tense as he rounds on Evie, who was being held up on her feet by Gil, her hands on his chest as she stares to Harry, whimpers and sobs still leaving her gaped lips. Harry took in the bruising and blood that now adorned her face. He was furious, she was _safe_ when he left her down below.  
“Did ye come up here at yer own will?” Harry snaps, his icy eyes focused on his girlfriend’s shuddering features. His voice grows more agitated as he steps closer. His words increasing in volume. “For God’s sake, Evie! I gave ye simple instructions to keep yerself out of harm’s way! Couldn’t ye have listened to me just this once?!”  
Uma steps in as Evie stares at him, blocking him from moving any closer to the princess.  
“She was scared, Harry. She probably just wanted to help-“  
“By nearly getting herself killed?! Aye! Very fuckin’ helpful that!”  
“Harry. That’s enough.” Uma orders, eyeing the boy in front of her sourly.  
“He nearly had ye.” Harry growls, watching the girl shrink into Gil’s chest, his eyes fall to her exposed skin, his stomach churning again. “He nearly gutted ye right here on this deck because ye were being reckless – nay, ye were being completely _brainless!_ Do ye know what pirates like him do te young girls when they take ye?! At what point during the ordeal did ye stop and think- _”_.  
“Hook!” Uma snaps, her voice drowning out his. Finally, the crazed boy shuts his mouth as he turns to glares at her. “That is _enough_.”  
Evie lets out a sob, breaking the tense silence as Gil bundles her up and takes her down below quickly at Uma’s signal. The pair disappear through the main doors in seconds, leaving Harry, Uma and the remaining crew in silence. Uma wasn’t quite sure when the madness had ended but she was glad it had, for the most part, it gave her a chance to poise herself for the impending disagreement.  
Uma’s tight voice speaks up, her rage obvious as she shatters the silence.  
“Ye took it too far today, Hook.”


	3. Interbellum

The morning illuminated the extent of the damage to the Lost Revenge in a glow of golden sunlight. Uma had solemnly performed a lone walk along the length of the deck at sunrise to ensure they had accounted for every damage and every soul; dead or alive. Broken stairs, gun-powder soaked blood stains littering the deck and a slashed sub-sail, thankfully, no crew lost on the _Revenge’s_ behalf. _The Hind’s_ crew, on the other hand, had been totally wiped out. Not one soul remained from the thirty-six men who served under The Noosemaker. Uma felt sickening sense of relief fill her stomach when she counted each corpse individually. She’d sent two crew man to recover whatever weaponry, food and supplies they could from the ghost ship that moored at their portside. Fresh bed linens, a rich first-aid stockpile and food and gold aplenty was loaded into the cargo hold of the Revenge as the remaining men were ordered to begin the proper disposal of the bodies of the lost. Uma was no slacker when it came to appropriately sending off those she’d held a part in killing, they were all returned to the sea with a coin in their mouth and a moment of silence to see them away. The last thing she needed were otherworldly avengers seeking her out when she already had so many living enemies to deal with.  
“Make sure these bloodstains are scrubbed out.” She orders to a young lad who was rushing around the deck with a sweeping brush, water pail and slinged wrist. “Don’t exert yourself too much with that bad arm.”  
She spots Harry sitting cross-legged up on the back deck, his eyes running over the mess of blood and scraps of material that sat upon the normally pristine surface. The empty stare told her not to bother him, to let him simmer the last of his upset out alone.  
Gil sent for Uma just after sunrise, when Evie had finally drunk enough milk of the poppy to quiet her desperate screams and dull her pain. Uma knew the girl was in a bad way by the extensive marks along her pale flesh, as well as the distant terror adorning her eyes. Uma was immensely proud of Gil. He'd done the best job he could with their fractured princess. For years, Gil’s mother had been the assistant to Gothel, the Isle’s only midwife and medical advisor and, while Uma seriously doubted his ability to deliver a baby, he had picked up a decent amount of simple doctoring from the two women, as well as a devoted bedside manner. More importantly, Gil knew what it was like to look death in the face by means of the Noosemaker and his crew. After he’d nearly been lost to the hangman's rope, Gil had been changed. Initially, he'd been a mess. He'd stopped sleeping for the most part and when he did the nightmares woke him often. He'd been edgy and nervous and had taken to keeping away from the rest of the crew. It had worried Uma and Harry to no end, and finally she'd told him as much. He'd broken it down for her then. Explaining every feeling, every sensation, every thought that he'd had running through his head as old Ned Smith had strung him up. He told her how he prayed to his mother, to her god, to any god that would listen. Uma had taken a piece of the burden from his heavy shoulders that day and over time he came back to his self. He was never the same Gil entirely though, the Noosemaker had left a dark stain on his soul and no amount of scrubbing would ever rid him of it.

Now, she had Evie to worry about. Not only had the girl suffered the trauma of her attack, but Harry had added insult to injury with his inexcusable actions the previous night. The princess had never seen that side of her pirate. They'd warned her about it, trying to be as guarded in their descriptions of his previous killings as possible. She'd seemed to understand but it was now apparent that seeing was truly believing. Even Uma had been disgusted by her first mate’s actions, never having seen him in such a berserk state. Harry had let his inner demons out to play on the deck last night. They danced in Blythe’s blood and screamed in delight at Evie’s turmoil. There was no taking it back now. She only hoped time would ease Evie's mental anguish, for now all she could do was assist with her physical healing.  
In the immediate aftermath, she and Gil had tried to take the girl to she and Harry’s shared stateroom, but she balked at the door, begging and pleading _; anywhere but there_! In the end they'd taken her back to the small cabin she’d been assigned when she'd first come aboard.  
The door was cracked slightly when Uma rounded the corner. She peeked in quietly, relieved to see Gil with a sleeping Evie motion for her to come in. He was in the bed with the princess curled up in his lap, resting against him. He'd draped a blanket around her shoulders to keep her warm and a steady, gentle murmur of words fell from his lips into her ear. His voice was quiet and calm, if not a little tired. It reminded Uma of men she'd seen gentling horses during her first trip to Auradon. _‘Whisperer’s_ , they were called, she smiled at the sight. She couldn't help the fond feeling that blossomed in her chest as she watched him, peaceful, as he strokes his fingertips over Evie’s temple.

Evie, on the other hand, looked as if she'd been to hell and back, and Uma supposed, in a way, she had. The princess’s face was still caked in dried blood, her right eye now holding a hefty shiner. Her hair was matted thickly, laced with red. The sight made Uma’s stomach turn. Neither Uma, nor Gil, had felt comfortable prodding and poking at the trembling princess when they’d helped her step into an oversized, loose night shirt the night before. Gil had to advert his eyes at the sight of the red markings, unable to take in the deep pinks and purple hues that had begun to decorate her chest and waist. Evie had barely spoken to words as they comforted her into the night, bar, _“No”_ and _“Please”._  
The pair knew she was distraught to say the least. Uma took Evie’s silver handled brush from the small night stand, crawling up into the bed next to Gil. Evie twitched in her sleep but Gil stroked her back until she quieted back down, relaxing somewhat. Uma set to work teasing and combing the knots from the other girl’s hair as gently as she could. Evie was always so proud of her dark locks that Uma could scarcely imagine her ever letting them get in such a state. It took near on an hour before she'd managed to work all but the worst out, dried blood flaking her fingers and the blankets. Uma grunted in disgust. Gil simply looked sad.  
"How’s Harry?" He asked.  
Uma was quiet for a moment. She sighs, suddenly exhausted.  
"I don't think I can talk about Harry right now."  
Gil nodded, chewing at his lip. There was a moment of silence before Uma spoke up.  
"What can I do to help you with her?"  
Gil thought for a moment.  
"When she wakes up we ought to bind her chest up tight, help splint her ribs. She won't breath as deep as she really needs to but she won't hurt as bad either. " Gil blushed slightly, "I don't think it's right that I be the one...seeing her like… that."  
Uma nodded slowly, "What I really need now though, Captain, is to hit the head."  
The Captain chuckled lightly. The poor lad had been with the princess for most of the morning while Uma wandered around in a daze performing her duties. He was probably dying for a bathroom break and a cup of hot tea. “Your bladder about to explode?"  
She watched as he readjusted the pale women, sliding her from his lap to the bed. She rolled, curling into Uma instantly. The dark-skinned woman hesitated, before wrapping her own arms around her. She watched Gil stretch with relief written across his face. He made to leave but she stopped him shy of the door.

"I think I'll take my breakfast in here, if you will."  
The blonde simply nodded, "Aye, Captain.”  
When he returned twenty minutes later with a hot bowl of porridge, Uma was asleep, wrapped protectively around the princess. He covered them both with a woolen blanket before snuffing the lone candle atop the bedside and leaving the porridge down by it. He slowly eased out of the room, shutting the door carefully.  
As Gil stode down the corridors to the main deck staircase, he found himself dwelling on the events of the night before. It had all been such a blur of adrenaline and pressure before everything turned to the worst. He could still hear Evie screaming, see her panicking as that scumbag backed her into a corner, gave her no means of escape. He wished he could’ve gotten to her sooner. The man chews at his lip guiltily, eyes on his shoes as he emerges into the harsh daylight. The sky was stark white, totally clouded over now. Gil sighed softly as he spots bloodied mops and buckets of red tinged water, his throat constricting uncomfortably.  
He knew the image of her abuse would play over in his mind for a long time to come and Harry... he didn't know what to think about Harry. He felt almost responsible for what had happened. If he'd just gotten there sooner...but no, by that time the ball had already been put into play. The sun felt good against his skin, warming and dulling the ache in his bones left from the night before. His eyes roved over the ship, watching as the members of the crew not on medical restriction worked to bring the ship back to Uma's standards. The Hind still floated at their side, her presence was eerie and Gil choose to not let his eyes seek her out lest he be reminded of things that were best kept in the past. His eyes were drawn to the lone figure leaning up against the bow railing. Harry. Gil took in his blank expression and reddened eyes. He looked like hell. Maybe Uma wasn't ready to check in on him but Gil couldn't (and wouldn't) avoid being there for him if Harry was in need.

He could tell the man was broken up over the events of the night before. His eyes looked tired, red and sore. He was still in his blood-soiled shirt and trousers, hook still tightly gripped in his hand. Gil fleetingly wondered if it had left his hand since the night before. As he took in the dried stains of red on its blade, he doubted it. Gil approached Harry quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder as he reaches his side. Harry simply glances at him, giving him no real reaction or greeting.  
“Hey.” Gil nods quietly, “How are you?”  
Harry shakes his head, rubbing the palm of one of his hands over his face, sighing softly. Gil noticed his nose was badly displaced, blood still staining the insides of his nostrils and in the cracks of his lips. A small cut graced his forehead, and he could see spatters of forming bruises along his bare arms, along with tiny spats of leftover blood.  
“You should get cleaned up.” Gil mumbles, his hand resting lightly on Harry’s shoulder.  
“I fucked up, Gil.” Harry murmurs, his eyes drifting to _the Hind_ as it drifted alongside their home ship. “I just… knowing he hurt her made me see red, ye know? I didn’t care, I wanted him dead, I wanted the bastard to suffer.”

Gils expression was tight and grim. Harry was one of his best friends, one of the few people who'd decided to take a chance on the silly, air-headed little blonde boy he used to be, but he was also the man who'd rounded on his own girlfriend, terrifying her seemingly more than any of the other blood thirsty pirates aboard the Lost Revenge last night. He'd said things in his rage that would stick with Evie. He'd carved his own wounds into the woman, even if they weren't upon her flesh. Only time would tell if they would heal to pretty pink scars or fester and ooze. Harry, has never done particularly well with silence, glanced again at his quiet friend.  
"How is-"  
Gil knows what he's asking before the words are even out.  
"She's alive." Gil shrugs, wondering how much he really needs to tell his friend in the moment. Harry looks like he's waiting for more. "She's pretty beat up, man, he got her good."  
Gil's own sorrow seeps into his voice and like that he just can't stop talking, even if he wants to.  
"We're going to need to tie her ribs up, I think she's broken a few," Harry nods, having thought the same thing himself, "But I wasn't about to poke at her too much. We've got her resting. Most of her cuts are small but you know how head wounds like to bleed..."  
Gil takes in a shuddering breath, remembering the volume of blood that poured from the princess the previous night.  
"She's a mess Harry."  
He wanted to lie about it. He wanted to tell Harry she'd be perfectly fine after a day or so but he couldn't. Evie was an innocent soul and they'd done a great disservice by not preparing her for this. The blame was on Evie just as much as it was on the Captain, as much as it was on Gil and Harry. Gil feels intensely guilty as soon as he sees the look in Harry's eyes, he seemed totally lost.  
He squeezes his shoulder again, “We should probably get you cleaned up and get that nose set back right."  
Harry nods quietly, his expression pained in response to Gil's words.  
"Come on, I'll help you." Gil reassures, patting his friend's back gently. The pair wander down below the deck to Gil's quarters, the blonde boy busies himself with preparing boiling water, clean rags and hot whiskey to take the edge off. He dampens the rag gently, as Harry sits on the edge of his bed.  
"This is going to be warm, shouldn't feel painful." Gil mumbles, pressing the rag against Harry's chin, cleaning away the stains of dried blood carefully.  
"How did this get so messy?" Harry mutters, his eyes taking great interest in the grain of wood in the wall opposite him.

Gil sighs, "Not sure, Mate. I'm not sure placing blame is what we ought to be doing."  
In his head, he couldn't help but point a finger at his friend. The dried blood was beginning to come loose as he rubbed away the remnants of Harry’s sins. Gil's basin of water was starting to take on a dirty pink tinge with each wringing of the cloth.  
"That' cut above your eye probably needs a stitch or two." He observed. It had sealed shut with an ugly scab but it wouldn't take much movement to dislodge it and start it bleeding again.  
Harry waved him off, "It'll keep for now."  
Gil shrugs, picking the small silver whiskey flask he'd left next to the basin. He unscrewed to top and took a long pull, enjoying the warm burn as it traveled down his throat.  
He offered it to Harry, "We’re gonna have to straighten out that nose. May want to take a nip."  
Harry nods, taking the flash and gulping down a few mouthfuls. He moves to hand Gil the flask again, but Gil shakes his head.  
"You'll need some more. Trust me." He encourages, chewing his lip. Straightening his nose was definitely going to take some elbow grease, and a lot of tolerance on Harry's behalf. Harry slowly brought the flask back to his lips and drank the remaining liquid down as Gil continued to clean at his face, gently scrubbing the blood from Harry's temple.  
"He was going to hurt her." Harry mutters after several moments of silence, his eyes glassy. "He wanted to take her, Gil."  
Gil shifts uncomfortably, "You stepped in, Harry. You stopped him-"  
"Her dress was slashed from breast te hip."  
The blonde knows about the dress, remembers shuttling her down to her quarters holding the shredded thing together. He remembers averting his eyes while Uma cut the remaining fabric away, Evie in too much pain to slip it off over her head. The beginnings of bruises had flamed red by then, and though he'd only seen them in the periphery he knew the great extent of damage that had been done. He also knew what could have been done had Harry not gotten there in time. He hums in agreement.

"He was so close to..." Harry trailed off, sounding to Gil very far away.  
"But he didn't." The deck hand asserts, voice rising ever so slightly. "I couldn't have gotten to her in time. Uma was tied up with Smith. Jonah, Desiree, Bonny, the rest of the whole damn crew. None of them coulda done jack shit about it." Gil pats his friend on the shoulder, "You saved her Harry."  
Harry nodded solemnly. "I saved her" he adds darkly, "But than what do I do?"  
He can feel the burn of the whiskey loosening his muscles, burning pleasantly in his belly.  
"I round on her. I scream and I rant and the whole time she's looking at me with those eyes,” Harry voice shook, tinged with rage, “Looking at me as if _I’m_ the one attacking her."  
Gil was certain he'd never heard his friend sound so lost as in that moment.

Gil shook his head, "Harry-"  
"No, Gil." Harry whispers, "I've really fucked this up."  
The blonde sighs, nodding, he couldn’t deny it.  
"Yeah. You have. You've scared her half to death. She's terrified, Harry. She needed you and you went for her. You fucked up... but it'll be fixed when you fix it, alright?"  
Harry stares at him in silence, looking down as Gil taps at the swelling around his nose, "This is going to hurt."  
Harry winces at the light taps. He takes a deep breath and nods to his makeshift doctor. Gil placed the back of a thumb along both sides of the crooked nose, squeezing the other fingers into a fist to brace the thumbs. Harry flinches as the light touch becomes firm pressure. Gil is tilting his head, looking this way and that. It damn well hurts and Harry growls at little at the time it's taking, “Just fuckin’ do it already!"  
His order is nasally, and Gil barks a laugh at the sound of it before a quick jerk of the hands cracks it back over into place. Harry sees stars and his eyes are rapidly filling with tears. Gil lets go when Harry swats uselessly at his hand, to blinded by pain to have any accuracy. The blonde holds on one thumb up, one eye squinting closed, like a painter judging his work.  
"Well, you won't be winning any beauty contests, but it's a fair bit better than it was." Harry salutes him with one finger as he dabs at his eyes. Gil chuckles before patting him gently on the shoulder.  
Gil dabs the blood away from beneath Harry's nose, the boy frowning as he looks up at his friend, "Yer a prick, Gil."

* * *

Evie had awoken in the early afternoon, saying little to Uma as she spoke softly to her. She'd already tried asking her how she felt, or if she needed or wanted anything to eat or drink. The princess had shaken her head silently to both suggestions meekly, her breathing low and labored.  
"How about we get you into a hot bath, then? It'll warm you through, then we can splint those ribs for you and help the pain."  
Evie nods softly, speaking up in a hoarse voice, "That sounds lovely.”

Uma worked in silence filling the tub with steaming water before stirring in a cup full of salts that would ease the girls tense muscles, hopefully numbing her aching joints. Evie moved stiffly from the bed, her strength lacking. Uma stood by the tub patiently, giving her the opportunity to move on her own. Evie glanced up shyly. Her throat was still raw from the night before but wasn't sure her uneasy stomach could handle the intrusion of the hot tea Uma could provide that would soothe it.  
"Do… do you think you could help me?" She asked motioning to her bed clothes.  
Uma gives her a small nod, helping her with the collared buttons of her nightshirt, it fell from her in a gentle swish, her body was slowly turning black and blue; thick bruising adorning large swathes of her once pale flesh. Uma kept her eyes away as she helped Evie step into the hot bath. As the captain helped her wash out her hair and clean her fresh wounds, the princess remained silent. The water slowly dulls and darkens form the blood and dirt that the captain scrubs from the aching girl.  
"We need to talk about it, you know?" Uma murmurs as she rinses her blue locks with clean water.  
Evie glances at her before nodding in agreement. "Okay." She murmurs.

Uma stays quiet for a moment, waiting to see if the Princess would speak first. She was rewarded after a short time with a dejected sigh. The water sloshed gently against the edges of the tub as the blue haired girl slowly turns to look at her.  
"I think I messed up, Uma." she said quietly, still babying her battered vocal cords. She wanted to scream. Wanted to sob and wail but she felt empty and wrung out like there were no emotions left to exercise. "I-I don't know what I was thinking! I thought I could help...thought I was stronger, that I knew better... I wanted to bare my load, help my brothren."  
Uma nodded silently, her heart aching as the princess calls to the crew’s motto.  
“You did.” Uma reassures, During her rounds checking on the crew following the conflict Bonny had told her what Evie had done for her the previous night. "If it weren't for you, we probably would have lost Bonny, you know."  
Evie's eyes widened, "She's ok, right?" her voice quivered nervously.  
"She'll heal." Uma took a deep breath. "More importantly, she's alive. And so are you, Evie."  
"What I'm worried about now are those ribs. We need to get you wrapped up as soon as possible." Uma sighs, shaking her head at the dark purple marks along her side, "The brute cracked you in two, princess."  
Evie gives the wall opposite an uncomfortable grimace as Uma helps the princess step out of the bath and hands her a towel. After drying and covering her modesty, she lays the princess out on her desk, gathering her binding supplies quickly.  
"There's going to be pressure, and you're going to find it hard to breathe." Uma explains, "I'm dampening the bandages with a rosemary water, it'll take the cramping away a little."  
"Thank you, Uma." Evie whispers as she winces at the tender fingers poking at her sides.

"I want you to take a nice deep breath" Uma instructed, "then breath all the way out and back in. I'm going to wrap you snug so nothing shifts around. It'll make you feel a bit better, and hopefully help those ribs reset."  
Evie nodded solemnly, doing as the Captain instructed. At the first wrap of the bandage, Evie hissed out, her face scrunching in pain. Uma gave her a steadying look and the Princess did her best to hold still and keep breathing until the process was over. Evie moved tentatively, while the pain was still there the bracing seemed to dull it.  
She gave her Captain a weak smile, "Thank you."  
Uma runs a soothing hand through her blue tresses, now freshly cleaned of blood.  
"You're welcome, but don't think you’re getting off the hook so easily." Her voice was stern, "We’re going to have to discuss your disobeying of a direct order from the first mate at some point."  
Evie nodded slowly, knowing that she'd have to own up to her own _brainlessness_ at some point. She had tried not to think about Harry but it was hard when he was simultaneously the cause and cure for what ailed her.  
"Harry...?" she trailed off, not knowing how to approach the subject.  
"He's ok." Uma nods, she knew her first mate better than anyone, possibly even better than his own girlfriend, and she knew he’d be wallowing by now, anxieties concerning the girl filling him from toe to head. "He's upset with himself for how he spoke to you, and he’s worried about your response to it all. He doesn't regret what he's done though." Evie nods, words unsaid hanging on her lips.  
"He... I didn't know he was so..."  
"Ruthless?" Uma offers after a pause, sighing, "Yeah. He goes to this place when threatened that just... it's dark, Evie, but that’s our Harry. He's dark."  
Evie bites at her lip, "I just never though he'd actually enjoy... murdering someone like that; so brutally."  
The Captain hums, noncommittally. She couldn't speak as to where Harry went when his moods hit, she knew nothing of that place herself. "He seems to enjoy it quite a bit. I'd probably be right in saying he never wanted you to know about that side of him."  
Evie continues to worry her lip between her teeth. The image of Harry, eyes gleaming, hook poised at his victim’s throat was burned into her memory.  
"He scared me." She says quietly, her shoulders falling like a massive weight had been displaced, "I don't think that really even-" she stops for moment to regain her composure.  
  
“He'd never have hurt you." Uma adds, knowing that no matter how angry Harry was he'd sooner die than lay a punishing hand on his beloved. Evie doesn't look convinced though. Her face falls to her hands folded in her lap. For a moment Uma doesn't know who to be angrier at. Evie for questioning Harry's intentions or Harry for putting the girl in the position to think he may ever hurt her. She doesn't say anything though, simply picks up the silver hair brush and begins running it through the damp cerulean locks for the second time that day as Evie closes her eyes. All is quiet except for the sound of the brush sliding through clean hair, the silence familiar and comfortable to the new found friends. When she's finished she offers Evie another dose of poppy milk which she accepts willing, curling up into her bed as soon as it's down.  
"Do you want me to stay?" She asks eyes assessing the exhausted princess.  
"No, I think I'd like to be alone. If that's alright?"  
Uma turns to leave when Evie painfully clears her throat. The sea witch raises a brow, waiting for the girl to speak up. Evie wrings her hands nervously.  
"… Do you have my blade?" she asks nervously, as if she's afraid to be denied it. Of course, Harry still had the damn thing, but Uma can see the desperation in the other woman's eyes. _She was completely terrified_. Uma sighs and slips her own from its sheath at her belt, handing it to the girl cautiously. Evie takes it with a shaking hand, assessing it for a moment before quickly sliding it under her pillow. They don't discuss why she feels the need to keep it so close; Uma understands. The captain mentally notes to give a heads up to those checking in on her. At the door Uma stops a final time, biting at her lip. She doesn’t look at the princess, simply speaks to the empty door way in front of her. "He loves you, Evie."  
The princess makes no move to respond and Uma slips out, head down, closing the door tightly behind her.

Later that night, Harry, Uma and Gil sit together in Uma’s quarters, nursing fresh stew that had been made that afternoon thanks to the now doubled quantity of produce residing in the cargo hold below; all taken from _the Hind_.  
“We’re eating dead men’s rations.” Uma mutters, tossing her spoon into the bowl halfheartedly. She sighs, leaning back in her chair and shaking her head. She was still struggling with the image of those bodies, having inspected them all before they’d been taken. She could remember every slit throat, every stab wound, every bruise… they played on a loop in her mind. “I can’t finish this.”  
Gil gives her a gentle look, putting a hand over hers as an effort to comfort her, he didn’t enjoy the tension in her shoulders, or the visible evidence of the beating she’d received during the turmoil. His fingertips ran over her split knuckles softly as she thanks him with a silent nod. He finds it hard to tear his gaze from the gash across her cheek and the swollen lower lip, her arms, now hidden under a pull over, were also ornamented with deep gashes and cuts.  
“It was self-defense. We had to protect our own.” Gil reassures, offering her the wine bottle to refill her cup.  
Uma shakes her head, her eyes on the porthole as they sailed away from the deserted ship, void of any life and slowly sinking.  
“We still did it, and we have to deal with the aftermath.”  
For the entirety of the evening, Harry had been unusually quiet, only speaking when spoken to and barely touching his cup of wine. Uma and Gil knew he was missing her, they knew he was anxious to see her – speak to her and apologise for his harsh words.  
“I’m going te see her after supper.” Silence falls on the table as Harry glances up at them, his eyes dark and pleading. “I have te speak te her.”  
Gil's eyes darted to Uma nervously. He would defer to her call on this but Evie had not only declined his earlier invitation to supper, but to food in general. With a fair bit of gentle prodding, Uma had convinced the princess to take some hot tea. Neither of them were sure whether she'd actually drink it, but it made them feel better knowing she had it available. While she hadn't outright declared it, her tone had said she wanted to be alone. Uma set down her glass without taking a drink. She felt the tension in her shoulders spread to the rest of her body.  
"Harry, I don't think that's a good idea." She watches an unreadable expression cross his face.  
"And why is that?" His voice was deceptively calm and Uma could see the thin facade he was putting up.

Uma sighs, “Let her rest, Harry.”  
Harry’s heart thuds hard against his chest, he missed her, desperately. He needed to be with her again to feel even slightly normal – even slightly himself! He’d felt completely off balance since this morning, his body not feeling like his own. All he wanted was to see her, just even for a moment. He wanted to apologise and make it all okay, fix his wrongs and make her realise he was still Harry. Still _her_ Harry! He wanted to feel like that, like he was still hers. His only desire was to be with his beloved, and he wasn’t permitted to do so. It sparked a desperation within him that sent hot, frustrated tears to his eyes. _Gods_ , he was all over the place and crying like a wee baby! He hadn’t cried since his dad died, _what was becoming of him?!_  
He stands abruptly, his face a mask of confusion and anger, “Why won’t ye let me see her?!”  
Gil shakes his head, his voice soft in an effort to calm the lad.  
“Harry this whole thing had been really difficult for her to deal with, and-”  
“It’s been difficult for me too, Gil! I almost lost ‘er!” Harry’s voice cracks as he raises it, making him gulp in a desperate breath, “I-I almost lost her.”  
If Uma was honest with herself she'd admit that the last twenty-four hours had been agony. Her body throbbed in places she wasn't even sure could feel pain, her head throbbed with a dull pain that threatened to get worse the longer she tried to ignore it. Worse yet, her very soul ached. There had been so much death and pain. Blood was on her hands and it was gnawing at her very being, but as a captain, she was not allowed to show that softness, that weakness. She knew Harry was distraught. She could hear it in his voice and see it in his tightly coiled muscles but even behind closed doors she could not tolerate him questioning her. Not today. Her voice was quiet but laced with steel, her dark eyes locked on his.

"Harry, this isn't about you!" Once the words were out they couldn't be reeled back in. Her heart twisted in her chest as he flinched back. "This is about Evie. Less than a day ago she made a rookie mistake, one that will haunt her for the rest of her life. And you-" she growled, her finger pointing in his direction, "You crossed a line that should have _never_ been crossed. The least you can do is give her a few days before you make her face everything."  
Harry’s eyes ran over her face gravely, moving to speak.  
“You will leave her until she’s ready to see you, until she’s ready to accept everything that happened on that deck last night. You will not rush her, or force her into thinking about things she isn’t ready for. _That’s an order_.”  
Harry hesitates as Uma’s face flushes angrily, calm but full to the teeth with fire and ready for a chance to take it out on someone. Harry runs a hand over his eyes, his breath leaving him in a sharp exhale as he looks off to the side.  
“Aye, aye, Captain.” He murmurs. His tired eyes returning her steely gaze before he returns to his seat, eyes on the floor as he pushes his dinner from him halfheartedly. 

* * *

 

Evie yelps as she wakes, her body jerking up painfully as her hand goes under her pillow and grasps the handle of the blade. She looks quickly around the room with wide, panicked eyes, looking for an unseen threat, the source of the panic that woke her. She found nothing. She slips the blade from her grasp, her chest heaving beneath her bounds. Her hands automatically search the covers for the familiar warmth she was so used to.  
“Harry, I had the scariest…” She trails off, her eyes adjusting to the low light as she realised she was alone. Harry wasn’t by her side. Everything comes back to her slowly. Her voice trembles as she finishes in a whisper, “… dream.”

She combs a hand through her now dry hair, standing carefully. Suddenly, she feels a sharp weight on her chest, the room was too small and too hot, if she didn’t get out soon she may just scream. Her palms were sweating by the time she reached the door, the pressure on her chest only seeming to increase as her heart rate sped up. Her rational self knew she was panicking, but there was nothing she could do in the moment to ease the agitation that had wriggled its way bone deep. She slipped from her bedside with wary eyes. Her hand itched for Uma's blade, hesitating, she very nearly turns to retrieve it. It was only the thought of the suffocating room that ended her pause and sent her on another path; straight out the door. Her feet carried her on a walk her brain did not recognize. The wood was cool under her bare skin and a chill began to take her as the sweat on her skin began to cool. As she stumbled, she looked down at her hands, gasping at the sight of a thick coating of dark blood. She wipes them roughly against the button up shirt Uma had put her in earlier. It was one of Gil's, she believed, and it dwarfed her thin frame. She blinked hard, fighting back sobbed tears. When she opened her eyes again, her hands were clean, not a splotch of blood in sight. She leaned now against the corridor wall, her breathing ragged and her body screaming at her. She was disoriented, unsure of where her panicked feet had carried her, she could barely recognise what part of the ship she was even in. Her eyes moved about her surroundings, finally landing on a familiar door. Her heart contracted painfully. The first mate’s quarters were directly in front of her. All she needed to do was reach out and open the door. Her bed, her Harry were right on the other side. Her fingers slipped over the cool brass. All she had to do was turn it.

 _"Nearly gutted ye right here on this deck!"  
"Ye were being completely brainless!"  
"Couldn’t ye have listened to me just this once?!”  
_  
She pulled her hand back as if burned by the door handle. It felt like she was being torn apart. She wanted to run into her darling Harry's arms, and yet she wanted to hide in shame from his cold glare. She needed his touch and feared it at the same time. She took a small step back. The sound of a sharp inhale caught her attention. She spun quickly, her body preparing itself for a fight, even as she grimaced at the pain the quick movement had caused. Harry stood a few feet away. His mouth hung open for a moment. He took a step toward her and she flinched back. The look of hurt in his eyes bringing the hot sting of tears to her own.  
"Princess..." he mumbled reaching a hand out. She internalized her reaction closing her eyes.  
Her voice was ragged and cracked as she spoke. " _Don't._ "

Harry stepped back and dropped his hand. His chest ached uncomfortably as he swallowed. He couldn't move, she was between where he stood and his door. Worse still, he was terrified to move in case he scared her. He felt his heart seize as he looked at her. Vulnerable and looking all too tiny in Gil's shirt, he wanted nothing more than to sweep her up into his arms and hold her close to him for the rest of his life.  
Her mouth was swollen, a thick cut decorating her lower lip, similar to the black eye she now sported. He could see the bruises decorating her light skin as he took in a deep breath.  
"Evie." He whispers, his voice soft and pleading, "You should go back to bed, sweetheart."  
She shakes her head, sniffling back sobs, "N-No! I can't go back there!"  
Harry nods, "Ok! Alright, darling... that's okay. What do you want to do?"  
She sounds so small when she speaks. "I-I don't know."  
Her body slides down to the floor as the tears soak her cheeks. When she looks up at him he can't help but go to her, can think of nothing else in his power to help her. He wraps his arms around her shaking form.  
"It's ok. I've got ye." His hands are tentative, afraid to touch anywhere that he might hurt her. He feels the bindings under the shirt and remembers Uma mentioning wrapping her ribs. Evie relaxes into his warmth, her emotions pouring over like a faucet someone’s forgotten to shut off. His hands run gingerly along her back, over her shoulders.  
"I'm so sorry." He murmurs against her head, his fingers attempting to tilt her chin up to him to meet his gaze. The hold he has on her makes her stiffen suddenly.

_"I'll make ye scream, wee one."_

The words are so clear it's as if Blythe himself is whispering them in her ear. Her eyes jerk up to Harry and all she can see is the devil in him. Blood is splattered across his face making the cool blue of his eyes pop in the dim light. His hook is poised at her throat and its sliding in. She can hear it moving, see the blood dripping down his arm, Harry’s smirking eyes bulging in their sockets.

_"I’m gonnae enjoy this."_

She shrieks than throwing herself backwards. Harry reaches for her but she scrabbling away. Her broken ribs revolt sending shock wave after shock wave of pain coursing through her body.  
"Stay away from me!" She moans through sobs of torment and pain, "Don't touch me."  
"Evie..." Harry can hear footsteps approaching but does nothing to move from his position. "It's gonnae be ok..." "No!" she screams, "This is not ok! I am not ok!"  
Harry watches her trembling, little grunts of pain leaving her with every panting breath.  
"Harry?!" Gil snaps, stalking towards the pair. "What did you do!?  
 Harry shakes his head desperately up at his best friend, like a child being scolded, "No, no! Gil, I didn't do anythin', I swear it!"  
Gil eyes him before stepping towards Evie, she was sobbing loudly as she pushed herself back against the wall further, shaking her head from side to side. Gil bends to help her but she fights against him, swinging her fists and kicking her legs out wildly.  
"Stop, Evie! Ye'll hurt yerself, please!" Harry begs, his eyes trained sharply on his girlfriend as she thrashed against Gil's firm hands.  
Uma appears then, grabbing Harry by his bicep and pulling him up, "Are you ok?!" She asks, inspecting him as he looks around her, trying to watch Evie.  
"Evie, _please!"_ Gil's desperate plea makes Uma's eyes snap between the three, she takes Harry and pushes him towards his quarters gently.  
"We've got this, don't worry, okay? Go, Harry."  
Harry, against all of his better instincts, stares after Evie as he goes, his feet carrying him automatically. Uma slams the door shut behind him but he can still hear Evie's loud sobs, it makes him fall heavily against the door, unable to catch his breath. _What a mess this all was._

* * *

 

A fortnight passes by as life aboard the _Lost Revenge_ slowly returns to normal for all but a few of its passengers. All Harry has seen of his love is a flash of blue hair in his periphery behind a closing door, or ducking around a corner. She's avoiding him and it hurts; it makes him feel like he's dying each and every time.  
He's said as much to Uma, "She cannae avoid me forever."  
Uma had looked at him with her serious eyes and a sour expression. "I believe she is of the mindset that she can." From Gil's daily updates he knows that she's healing, at least on the outside. His friend has told him the bruises have been changing from purple to green to yellow, still visible but not as shocking as the first time he'd seen them marring her perfect skin. The swelling had gone down as well and she'd finally started to eat after Uma had threatened to force it down her should she refuse again. Harry said a silent prayer for Gil. While Uma's patience had soon faltered, Gil's seemed to a bottomless reserve. Gil was the one Evie finally opened up to. It was his shoulder she cried on into the night. It was Gil who lay with her at night soothing her when she awoke, grounding her when the panic took over. Harry would never say that he was one-hundred-percent comfortable with another man in Evie's bed, but he was at least glad for it to be Gil. He still believed that it should be him carrying for her, loving and reassuring her. He'd been told again and again she wasn't ready. " _Wait for her to come to you,"_ had all but become Gil's mantra when dealing with the first mate. " _She'll come to you when she'd ready."  
_ Harry's patience was wearing extremely thin. He would find himself watching doorways and staircases hoping to even catch a glimpse of his girlfriend as she passed. He himself was feigning anxiety over the entire ordeal, days afterwards he'd still been coming down from highs, now he was left simply with exhaustion; both mental and physical. Being away from Evie wasn't helping him vanquish the difficulty he found sleeping or the monsters that hit him in his dreams. He tuckered on for her sake, wanting to show her he was okay, that he was safe, as was she. He'd spent many of the past days fashioning small gifts for her to find around the ship as a distraction from his heavy thoughts. He knew what tickled her fancy in regard to trinkets and baubles so he found the process quite therapeutic. Sea glass fashioned into intricate shapes, small gold chains with old coins threaded through; all of it left neatly by her door after hours for her to hopefully find the following morning. Harry's entire being brightened when he'd spot her with them on her lapel or hidden against her skin somehow. It was his one way of keeping the hope that she might still be _his_ Evie. He'd spent too many restless nights awaiting the day it would feel like she still was his, he found himself sleeping listlessly most nights when he did manage to catch some shut eye. Tonight seemed to be no different.

Across the ship, Evie awoke with a start, panting heavily. Another night; another dream.  
They'd slowly changed as the days had passed. While Harry had once been just as monstrous as the pirate he'd slain, he'd slowly morphed in her dreams. He was surely no knight in shining armor. He never had been, and she doubted he ever would be. But, in her dreams, he was her hero.  
It was Harry who'd stopped the pain. It was Harry who'd rained down righteous vengeance on her attacker. And after this revelation it was becoming harder to stay away from him in her waking hours. He was the first she wanted to tell about the strange bird she'd seen flying the other day, or the pod of dolphins that had seemed to join her for breakfast this morning. She missed his touch. She missed his presence. Evie grunts softly, tossing the covers off. She swung her legs out of bed slowly. Gil had needed to remind her earlier that, though she was feeling better, it would still take another month, at least, for her ribs to knit back together and that she was to take it easy. She looked at the clock on her nightstand: Four-forty-A.M.

  
Evie uses a nearby hand towel to blot at the sweat that had broken out over her brow, searching for a decanter of water. She was disappointed to find it empty. The air was crisp, and so she wrapped a thick shawl around her shoulders. She knew sleep wouldn't come back to her before the call to rise came through. Deciding she'd head to the galley to see about procuring something more to drink, she slips from the room quietly.  
The crew was still working through _the Hinds_ rations and everyone had full, content bellies while the stores remained blissfully stocked. As long as no one sat and thought to long on where their bounty had come from they were joyous for it. Evie opened her door, sighing as she looked down. A small brown paper package, tied with a simple twine bow sat in front of her door, just rested against the frame. _Harry_.  
Her chest tightened. He'd taken to leaving gifts for her, each one a tiny work of art crafted by his capable hands. She crouched down, gingerly pulling at the bow. It came loose easily. Her eyes began to tear almost immediately. Strung onto a simple silver chain was a lone silver thimble.  
She was moving before she knew she was doing it and found herself knocking, near pounding on his door. Tears running freely down her cheeks. Her new treasure was gripped tightly in her hand. She didn't care that it was well before dawn. She needed to see him.   
Harry stirs at the sharp knocks that attack his door, his eyes snapping open as he glances around the room. It was pitch black, the only light source venturing from dimmed oil lamp at his writing desk, where he'd already begun carving a tiny wooden pirate ship for Evie. He yawned as he stumbled to the door, wincing and catching himself on the handle, shoving it open quickly.  
" _Evie..."_ He whispers, his shoulders dropping as he stumbles back. The dim golden light illuminated her face blissfully, she looked stunning. After not seeing her up-close for such a stretch, he took in every aspect of her fsce closely. Her bruises had faded, her eyes now less swollen and her lip mostly healed. Harry kept away from the doorway, cautious, as he waited for her to speak.  
"You gave me a thimble?" Evie whimpers, holding the necklace up.

Thimbles had always held a special meaning for Harry. Evie remembered the day he recounted his father’s stories of how a thimble presented to a woman you loved, held more protection and power than any kiss ever could. Thimbles were, to all with at least half a heart, the true objectification of true love. Harry nods mutely, still trying to shake the sleep from his head because this _surely_ must be a dream. He wanted to reach out and touch her, make sure she was real, but held his hand back, remembering Gil’s words. Tears were rolling down her sweet face, his fingers itched to wipe them away, to wrap in his arms and chase away all the pain. His longing for her was a physical ache that only grew the longer she stood in front of him.  
"Why?" she prods as he continues to silently stare.  
"I wanted te kiss ye." He responds simply, "But I knew I couldn't. You remember the stories?"  
Evie shook her head, laughing as she sniffles. "Harry, _kiss me_."  
Harry hesitates, his arms tight by his sides. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want to risk hurting her again, touching her was a risk he wasn't exactly comfortable taking.  
"Evie..." He murmurs, shaking his head. She steps through the door, standing confidently as she looks at him. "Harry. It's been too long." She pleads, "I’ve missed you. And I want you to kiss me."  
Harry moves then, the intensity of her eyes on his and the desire to be close to her again was all too much. He moved close, cupping her cheek with a gently hand before dipping to press their lips together deeply.

Evie felt as if she was drowning in sensation, in emotions, in her beloved’s kiss. Out of habit she leaned into his touch. _Oh,_ how'd she'd missed the feeling of his skin against hers. She moved in closer needing to feel the warm press of his body against hers. Harry attempted to retreat, pulling his lips from hers and smirking as she chased after them still pushing into his personal space.  
"Princess...don't rush. We have all the time in the world to make this right." She looked up at him quietly, nodding. She refused to be without his touch completely and small smile graced her features as his hand found hers, finger interlacing.   
The pair stayed up talking for hours, the sun was rising steadily but they barely noticed. Sitting together, engrossed in conversation long after the first call to order for the day, even through breakfast. They lay together in bed, snuggled up within the warm blankets they let their fear and anxieties pour out. Finally laying some of the trauma of that night to rest.  
"I'm sorry, princess." Harry murmurs after a few moments of silence. The words weren't something he often uttered, they made Evie's heart thud hard against her aching ribs. She understood his actions, not the brutality, but the reasoning behind his anger and need for revenge. She did indeed appreciate the justice he had gifted to her, despite its many flaws and dark intent. Evie strokes his cheek, leaning down to kiss him again, her lips lingering close to his.  
"You did what you had to do.”  
When Uma eventually decided to investigate her missing crew members, she finds both Evie and Harry cuddled up in their quarters together. It was the most relaxed she'd seen either of them during the past weeks, not wanting to wake them, she decided to allow them time to each other. Time to heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for joining us on this adventure. We will most definitely be working on some other fics in the future - our minds are too similar to stop here.  
> Please feel free to leave your opinions and thoughts below, we'd love to read them!


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